


Cravings

by Tammyfait69



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Incest, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 09:18:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16784086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tammyfait69/pseuds/Tammyfait69
Summary: Draco has realized he has certain...cravings.





	Cravings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snowblind12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowblind12/gifts), [LissaDream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LissaDream/gifts).



> This story is dedicated to a couple of amazing ladies here Snowblind12 and LissaDream. 
> 
> I was pretty vanilla before I met them so you can blame this trip to the darkside for me on them! LOL  
> This plot bunny sprung from watching HBP. That scene in the astronomy tower where Bella says "Well done, Draco." And then kisses his shoulder. 
> 
> It triggered this dark turn in my mind, along with reading some incredible fics from the ladies I've dedicated this fic to. 
> 
> If you have not read their stories, you really should. Mind blowing!
> 
> So...This is a dark story that contains scenes of a sexual nature between Draco/Bellatrix. It's not too graphic, however, if Drellatrix is not to your taste, or offends you, leave now and don't read this. I do not want to be flamed for content if a person chooses not to heed these warnings. Okay? Okay.

Cravings

By: Tammyfait69

Disclaimer: I do not own the HP characters. They are the property of JK Rowling. I just like to play with them.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He knows she’s broken.

He would bet she was broken long before she ever went to Azkaban.

Why else would she give herself to a madman?

He thinks she's always been unstable, but after more than a decade of being locked in a cell in the harshest of conditions with dementors and Salazar knows what else to torment her mind—any traces of sanity she ever possessed are nothing more than worn out, faded memories.

If even that.

He wonders if she even recalls what it was like to be sane?

He doesn’t think she does.

If she did, she wouldn’t be asking him to do the things to her that she does.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He wonders if insanity runs in the family?

He considers this for a moment.

It makes an odd bit of sense.

She craves something from him that can only be described as madness.

However, was he not as insane as she, to be satisfying her night after night?

He wonders if those cravings are simply hers alone any longer?

Or has the need become his own as well?

He’s not sure he wants the answer to that question.

Too much introspection.

He prefers to think of how it all began.

She came to him in nothing but the tattered silk of a rather worn dressing gown, awakening him from a deep slumber in the dead of night.

Her wild eyes wet with tears.

“He won’t hurt me anymore. Not even a little, ickle bit.”

She falls to her knees, sobbing.

He does not feel sorry for her.

He knows exactly who the _he_ is that she speaks of.

He wants no part of her or _him_ , so refuses her the first time, of course.

He can't be what she craves.

He doesn't like pain.

*~*

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Once he rejects her, he thinks that is the end of it.

But she comes back.

Again, and again.

Her darkened gaze mad with hunger.

Her hands, waking him up.

Touching him. Stroking him.

Night after night, she slinks into his room.

Tempting him.

He tells her no time and again.

It’s wrong.

What she wants from him… it’s so very wrong.

She refuses to take no for an answer.

He is strong, until one night... he isn’t.

He caves and gives in to her.

He hopes she’ll stop if he appeases her.

He makes her bleed and hates himself.

He thinks now she will stop.

He gave her what she wanted.

He is wrong yet again.

Still she seeks him out.

It has become very clear to him; Bella's found a playmate and she isn't about to let him go.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Her gaze follows him constantly nowadays; it's unsettling.

She’s becoming unhinged in her surveillance of him and his whereabouts.

The Dark Lord assigns her the task of teaching him occlumency.

He mentions that he already knows the complicated mind magic thanks to Severus.

Bella leaps at the directive. Reminding everyone how he failed at his tasks earlier.

He is not appreciative of her pointing out his failures.

The Dark Lord instructs Bella to teach him legilimens instead.

Despite it giving her one more reason to seek him out, he does not mind that order.

He's excited to learn the art of delving into another's mind.

In fact, he already has a particular (brilliant!) mind he wants to sort through.

He takes his legilimens lessons quite seriously.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It is during their third session when she takes everything to a new level.

She is assaulting his mind, trying to get in, digging at his brain.

He blocks her at each turn, but he is distracted enough that she is able to straddle his lap before he's even aware of it.

He is shocked, horrified and ashamedly aroused when she guides him into her for the first time.

He lets her have her way, unnerved by the threat in her voice when she holds her wand to his throat and tells him to "Behave".

He hates himself when she makes him climax.

He hates _her_ even more for what she's done, but he tells no one of the strange turn their relationship has taken.

He knows his parents would _not_ be pleased if they found out.

But he's more afraid of her than his parents.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She watches him with eyes that are fierce and more than a tad deranged.

Her jealousy is the stuff nightmares are made of.

Daphne was heaving up thick grey slugs for days after they played in his room.

Pansy was in tears as she ran from the manor, screaming as boils erupted all over her flesh.

Tracey Davis never even made it to his room before she had a problem with her bowels.

He knows better now.

Bella doesn't share.

He avoids her eyes when his mother pulls him aside and asks him if he needs to talk.

He can't. He knows this.

“I’m fine, Mother,” he says.

His heart pounds as he lies, knowing he is anything but.

He is losing a part of himself.

Stripped bare, he is descending into a darkness that is all consuming.

Becoming a shadow in a world without light.

He wonders if he is truly dark or is he simply absent light?

Can there be darkness without light to contrast it?

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She sometimes calls him "My Lord", reminding him he’s not her first choice.

He no longer cares; she’s not his first choice either.

He usually has another in mind when they play.

A certain bookworm with bushy hair and a swotty, know-it-all mouth.

She's his dirty little fantasy.

He shudders as he thinks of all the things he wants to do with that mouth.

They’re even filthier than her soiled blood.

He doesn't let on, but his desire for Hermione Granger is growing every day.

He wonders if Bella knows.

During their lessons she tries to see his private thoughts, but his walls are strong and he keeps her at bay. 

Thankfully, Severus trained him well.

She is proud of his mind magic.

He thinks that is the first time he's ever heard her say she's proud.

He fucks her extra hard for her words of praise.

She likes to taunt him about the revels.

She tells him through suffering he can gain strength. 

That seems strange to him at first until he is forced to observe one of the revels she speaks of.

There is no pleasure. 

Only pain and suffering. 

He must remain strong or truly lose himself.

He supposes then that she may be right, one gains strength through experiencing pain.

If so, he should be as strong as an unbreakable vow after the horrors he's witnessed. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lately, their relationship has evolved.

She has given him the control and he finds he enjoys wielding such power over her.

He has embraced his darkness. 

He no longer fears what is happening to him.

He no longer worries over the absence of light either.

He stares into the eyes of evil every day.

He bears witness to the horror that can be had at the whims of a maniac.

There is no light, only pitch blackness.

His soul feels empty.

Bella has become the only thing that keeps him sane.

Of course no one would understand.

Which is why he keeps their play to himself.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He is irritated that Mother is questioning him again.

She wants answers regarding Bella and his lessons.

Luckily, he's not only become a skilled legilimens, he's become a convincing liar too.

Mother, once again, believes him when he tells her not to worry.

He’s almost proud of this new talent, after all he’s never really defied his parents until her.

He supposes, being Slytherin serves him well in such a moment.

It should bother him, deceiving his parents like he is, but it doesn’t.

He’s not sure why.

The only thing he is sure of is the magnificent destruction of who he once was is all but completed.

The Prince has abandoned his crown and fallen from grace.

No longer does he have the will to deny her when she comes to him.

He can't pretend anymore that he's not thrilled when she crawls upon his bed, on her knees, hands raised in supplication.

“Please Draco,” she whispers. “I need it.”

Her voice cracking when she says his name.

Her craving sparks something deep and dangerous within him; and the excitement that slithers insidiously throughout his body is undeniable.

He hardens almost instantly.

He is beginning to believe he needs this as much as she does.

“Ssshh,” he soothes, as if speaking to a child. “I’m here, Bella. I can give you what you crave.”

He no longer calls her Aunt.

What they have in common has grown beyond merely being blood relatives.

The mosmordre upon both their arms is not their deepest link anymore.

Theirs is a deeper bond; a craving for the darkness, for pleasure and pain interacting and succeeding together until they are one.

That has become theirs alone to share.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He has his own wing in the manor and has turned one of the guest suites into a play room.

Tonight, she is hanging by her wrists on a hook attached to the ceiling.

He uses muggle methods to bind her because they chafe her pale skin so beautifully.

Draco walks around her, his silver gaze admiring his work.

He decides she’s really quite beautiful with her hands bound and strung up above her head.

He chooses the cat o’ nine for tonight’s session.

Another muggle tool he has found to be quite effective.

She laughs maniacally when she spies his choice. “Feeling particularly vicious, are we?”

He stands behind her, his chin resting on her shoulder. “You nearly got us caught today,” he whispers.

She licks her lips and turns her head to try and meet his gaze. “But I didn’t, now did I?”

He laughs softly; not at all fooled by her placating words.

Bella does not want to be excused or forgiven.

She wants to be punished; it’s why she continuously acts before thinking.

She craves the pain mixed with pleasure.

“It doesn’t matter. You were reckless. And now you need to be punished.”

He trails the cat up her stomach, sliding the nine thin strips of leather over her bared breasts and along her clavicle.

Her head falls back, and she bites her lip as the sharp slivers of razors embedded within the nine thin straps slide along her skin and down her back.

“I will give you what you need,” he tells her before bringing the whip down.

Bella twists and turns; the feel of harsh leather across her naked back makes her moan in pleasure.

He raises his arm and brings it down, again and again.

Painting beautiful stripes of red onto the pale canvas of her body.

She gasps at each blow but doesn’t scream.

He’s not concerned.

The Dark Lord is not at the Manor tonight.

He has plenty of time to make her scream.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

His mind drifts to Granger as he metes out Bella’s punishment.

He likes to imagine all the delightfully dark and wonderful things he wants do to the Gryffindor Princess.

He is fairly certain Granger’s suffering will be brilliant.

She will bleed so spectacularly, and it will not be the color of mud at all.

He imagines her calling him Draco as she begs him to hurt her just a little bit more.

He’ll call her Hermione as he shows her how freeing her pain can be.

How enticing the burn of his whip is.

He pictures her tears and thinks of how he will lave them from her face.

He will do so with the reverence that she has offered them to him and him alone.

In the afters, he'll introduce her to his cat o nine with the same tenderness.

He's certain his little pet will scream as he worships her body with leather straps; her pleas will be music to his ears.

He will make her stronger through her torment.

Like he has been forged.

And when he’s done, he’ll run his tongue along her bruised and battered flesh.

He will taste her skin as well as her murky, messy blood.

And after he’s soothed her and shown her the true path to ecstasy; he’ll fuck her.

Hard and fast. Long and deep.

His mind fantasizes of burying himself balls deep in Granger’s delectable cunt and pounding into her.

Fucking her sweet quim over and again until neither of them can stand.

He wonders if Granger shaves her pussy?

Fuck!

His imagination is running away with him.

He swallows thickly; aroused.

Having Granger as his slave is his favorite fantasy.

His heart thunders in his chest with lust and desire.

The thought of fucking and flogging the bossy little bookworm has him beyond excited.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

He turns that hunger to Bella.

The next ten lashes are doled out with far more force and determination.

The cat slices open her flesh, ravaging her with it's leather and razor tentacles.

Bella arches away from the whip for the first time, and finally, he makes her scream.

He smiles wickedly.

He ends their play because he believes she has reached her breaking point.

Yes, even Bellatrix has her limits.

Before he unties her, however, he pauses to admire his work.

He finds the pretty patterns he’s created on her back remarkable.

"You're so beautiful like this," he says.

She moans when he runs his hand along the damaged flesh of her back and he rethinks ending the session.

"Shall I get out the knives?" he asks softly.

She doesn't speak, but her wild dark eyes re on fire when she raises her head. "Pretty please," she says.

He chuckles at this, but since she asked so nicely, he cannot imagine not giving her what she needs.

He watches as each slash of the blade takes her higher and higher until she quivers and shatters under his hand with a breathless cry.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She lasts far longer than usual tonight.

And he is tired after their play.

She sags in her bonds, limp, but snarls and bares her teeth at him when he unties her hands.

He watches her closely as he frees her; always wary.

Bella sometimes bites the hand that feeds her.

She should be exhausted, but she’s strangely enervated.

He should not be surprised, she rarely does what is expected.

And yet, she still manages to shock him when, as soon as she is freed, she leaps at him.

She shoves him towards the bed.

"Now it's my turn, yes?"

She is frenzied, ripping his shirt open, sending buttons flying.

"So pretty," she says.

Within moments, he is on his back, his pants around his thighs with her mouth upon him.

His head falls back on his pillow, and he has no choice but to allow her to have him this way.

In these moments, after the storm of painful release has passed, she can become a wild thing.

Her mind even less right than normal.

He knows better than to fight her on anything when she's in this state.

It will not end well for him.

He chooses to fall into the pleasure she offers instead.

He supposes after tonight, he needs it too.

Potter escaped last evening's Death Eater Attack and the Dark Lord was not happy.

Everyone was punished with a cruciatus-some worse than others.

He was still feeling the effects.

It's what drove him to seek her out tonight.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Her anger abates quicker than he expected and he feels her becoming softer, gentler in her ministrations.

He is disturbed by her tenderness.

Bella does not make love.

He does not want her to touch him in tender passion; the thought makes him ill.

They share a love of blissful agony, nothing more.

He knows it's time to take control again.

He fists her wild curls, roughly guiding her head as he forces himself deeper, and deeper still, until she chokes on him.

That's it. Cold. Ruthless. Agonizing pleasure.

That is all he wants from her.

Bella seems to agree because she lets him brutalize her throat.

Tears leak from her eyes as her mouth is stretched as wide as it can go.

He thinks she’s lovely when she cries.

He runs his hand along the exquisite marks he’s left on her.

Her porcelain pale flesh is marred with ribbons of vibrant reds and colorful patterns of fading blues and greens.

She’s never looked prettier.

He drags his nails along her open wounds, making her bleed again.

She hums her enjoyment of his treatment of her.

Bella always likes it rough.

He suddenly pulls her mouth off him.

He wants to have her on her back, where he can truly observe her agony.

She licks her lips and smiles at him like a deranged Goddess.

He grabs her by the throat, flips them over and pins her to the bed.

She sucks in a sharp breath as her wounded flesh is forced against his duvet.

No matter how soft the fabric, it has to hurt; he’s worked her bloody hard tonight.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

For a moment, he thinks she's going to attack him and he wonders where his wand is?

But she doesn't.

Instead she moans beautifully.

She arches her hips, pressing her back further into the mattress and wriggles under him.

Her movements spread blood along the comforter. 

He smirks. The bed is a mess, but _she_ is spectacular.

A beautifully damaged work of art as she whimpers and pleads, craving even more.

His hand tightens painfully around her neck and he holds her there; utterly still.

Her eyes widen but she doesn’t struggle or reach for her wand to fight him off.

She’s a powerful witch and could easily hex him to hell and back.

Yet, she doesn’t.

She just watches him with her wide, crazy eyes, almost daring him to do it.

He wonders how far would she let him go?

Would she give him her final breaths?

His body tingles at the idea but it doesn’t take hold.

He is not a killer; he’s well aware of this.

He gives her one final hard squeeze that makes her gag, before he lets her go.

She cackles in raspy glee.

“Well done, Draco,” she purrs in a voice made rough by his choking her.

She is not deterred.

She craves the darkness.

She craves the torment and the utter wrongness of it all.

Draco hates himself but, as he settles between Bella’s thighs, he knows she’s made him crave it too.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Okay. I know that was dark. It simply wouldn’t leave my had until I wrote it. I’m working on the sequel now with an actual Hermione in it. Draco will get his greatest desire…

I'm making a bet with myself to see how many people actually have the bollocks to leave a review for this fic. ;) I guess we shall see eh?


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